Can you remember the world without the internet? It never ceases to shock me just how much we rely on it, both for work and socially. For instance this week I heard from someone out of the blue whom I worked with over 20 years ago and she summarised her life in 4 very short paragraphs via messenger and I told her mine in 3 and that’s the last I’ve heard. Not sure where I or for that matter she, thought it was heading, but after that brief foray into our respective lives, we have continued on our separate ways as you would if you passed each other in the street.
Then we had all manner of problems for the first three days of last week when not only our internet kept dropping out but the phone lines were down. My dear friend, both in the real and virtual world, Viv, suggested reverting to the quill pen and ink to communicate. There are plenty of seagulls around to supply a feather or two, I’m just not sure bottles of ink are still readily available.
he hadn’t been ladder trained
We went down the usual route of rebooting the router, switching the power on and off and thumping it for good measure but thankfully on Wednesday the BT engineer arrived and came to the conclusion that it was most likely the outside cable that needed replacing but because he hadn’t been ladder trained he had to call someone else to climb the ladder to reach the roof. By Wednesday afternoon we were back up and running, the seagulls were in no danger of losing their tail feathers and I didn’t need to go in search of a bottle of Parker quink ink.
But at least the sun was shining and it was unseasonably warm, apparently the record’s been broken for the hottest February. There were people strolling along Gun Cliff Walk in T-shirts and shorts and when I walked to the post the office I soon wished I had left my jacket behind as I strode up the hill and especially when I stopped to help an elderly man who was having problems with his mobility scooter.
Add to that a large stationary mobility scooter
Picture this, a busy sunny midday in Lyme with heavy traffic meeting at the pinch-point where the road narrows on the steepest part of Broad Street, the one and only road into and out of town. Add to that a large stationary mobility scooter in the middle of the road, as you can imagine it was causing quite a problem.
Step up the Marine Theatre manager.
After establishing that all was not well and his mode of transport had stopped working, I suggested he stepped off and I would try to push it to the side of the road. Now I don’t know if you have ever tried to push these things but they don’t budge. During this time the audience across the road had grown to watch the spectacle.
Meanwhile and not before time, a man walked over to offer his assistance and with him at the front and me at the back, he pulled whilst I pushed. Still nothing. So we changed places, me at the front and him at the back at which point another man arrived to offer his help.
So there we were, one man at the back, one at the side and me at the front.
With the strength of the two men pushing but without so much as an ‘on my count’ the huge weighty contraption moved forward before I was ready and in the seconds it took them to get it rolling, the front wheels rolled onto my feet. I couldn’t pull free but the two men continued to push and only stopped when I shouted for the 3rd time that it was on my foot, by which time I had lost my balance and was down.
my feet were released and I stood up laughing
So there was I, prostrate on the road, a mobility scooter on my foot and man number 2 trying to help me up which is pretty impossible when you can’t move your feet. I’m not sure what happened in the intervening seconds but my feet were released and I stood up laughing heartily wondering if the several dozen people who had gathered to witness the comedy had seen my demise.
With my dignity stripped and my backside throbbing I continued my journey to the post office.
I was pestered by my son’s teen pals when I picked them up from rugby training on Wednesday night, despite it being a chilly dark February night, after the sunny day they wanted the roof down. But I played the boring responsible parent card.
I wrote my regular monthly column for Lyme Online; it’s always fun to come up with a theme and this time it was about beach bodies – apparently now is the time to be thinking about ours. I was minded of mine when I eyeballed the dead white fish on display in the theatre when the European Small-scale Fishing party were in residence. I won’t be exposing my beach body anytime soon.
the Ammonite film crew arrive next week
It was of course the last day of February, it never ceases to shock me just how quickly the weeks fly past and with the Ammonite film crew arriving in Lyme next week, I have a hunch March will be gone before we’ve had a chance to blink.
It was throwback Thursday when Fleetwood BAC performed at the Marine playing all their greatest hits. It was a seated gig but there were plenty of people who couldn’t stay seated and were soon up in the aisles doing their thing.
short skirt and fishnet stockings
One of our brilliant volunteers was ready with the ice creams to sell during the interval, I’m not entirely sure what was going through her head as I commented on the straw basket but her reply about planning to put on her short skirt and fishnet stockings left me wondering.
I have a feeling it would take more than 4 paragraphs on messenger to find out about her life over the past 20+ years…